Forty-One
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: Hey, you only turn forty-one once. And if you don't spend it drinking wine out of a Solo cup, listening to your husband ramble on about the backstory of his on-screen character, did you really experience it? - One-shot.


"I don't want to do anything."

This was a pretty shocking statement for Paul to accept as he and Steph got the kids ready for school one September morning. He had been very busy supervising and assisting with hair time (he was much better at it than Steph, who would have thunk?), but come back to the bedroom upon its completion to finish getting dressed himself.

Steph was actually still in the bathroom, doing the same.

"You serious, babe?" he asked as he stood in their bedroom, staring in the mirror over the dresser, carefully buttoning up his shirt. "You don't want to do anything for-"

"Absolutely nothing."

"No party or-"

"Nothing."

Which wasn't completely true. She later told him that she wouldn't mind if they celebrated alone, with just the girls, as it was always fun for their three daughters to pick out gifts for their parents (they already had gotten some for her after all), and neither Steph nor Paul would ever reject a chance at that moment.

But as for everything else?

"I just don't want it to be a big deal," Steph sighed as they rode in the car together, after dropping each of the girls at their schools. "Not this year."

"This year?"

"Last year was a special year. This year isn't. You know how it is."

"Every year's special, when you get old enough."

"Are you calling me old?"

Which was his cue to change the subject to whatever stupid thing the morning radio host was blabbing on about in the background.

"it's just not important," she yawned on the way home as she sat in the passenger seat, typing furiously to someone on her phone all the while. "Is all."

"And by that," Paul asked, giving her a glance, "you mean that your birthday is not important. Right? Because my baby is very important."

"Shut up," she weakly retorted, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her attitude. "We don't make a big deal out of your birthdays."

"Steph, you never shut up about it when it's my birthday."

'But I don't hound you, like you're doing me right now."

"You feel like I'm hounding you?" When she nodded, he added, "Alright then. I won't bring it up again, okay? Having a party or something, the weekend before or after. If you don't want that-"

"I don't."

"-then my lips are sealed on the sub- And what great timing." With the hand that wasn't on the steering wheel, Paul reached over to turn up the radio. "Finish talking to you right as Metallica- Hey, Steph-"

She reached right over to turn it back. "We weren't done talking. About my stupid birthday? Yes. But not about work."

"You know, Steph, they say it's not good, being married to your work."

"Marriage is work, silly."

"Do something you love and you never work a day in your life."

"Um… Wait, I have one..."

"Well, I actually have one and if I say it, I win, so-"

"Work...love...um-"

"If you wanna get anywhere in life, the first thing you gotta do is fall in love with your work."

Stephanie finally looked up from her phone, but it was only to glare at him. "I said I had one, if you just gave me a second."

"Second isn't in my vocabulary, babe."

"Apparently neither is homophones."

"For one," he began, "you mean homographs."

"Whatever." Then, when he didn't continue, she asked, "What's the second?"

"I just told you that I don't do second."

"And my phone says you were wrong anyways."

"Your phone's wrong then."

Stephanie was grinning widely then, thinking she'd caught him in something. "That wouldn't be a homograph. It would be a heteronym, so-"

"Shuddup."

"You shut up."

"Tell me I'm wrong. You-"

"Oh, wait." Steph let out a bit of a sigh. "A heteronym is just a form of a homograph."

"Ha." He tapped a palm against his steering wheel. "Your phone isn't stupid. You are."

"How am I stupid? For not knowing some far more stupid-"

"Stupider, but go ahead."

"-English term?"

"You went to college, didn't you?"

"Uh, I studied in communications and we're communicating just fine, thanks."

"Really?" Paul grinned over at her as they pulled onto their block. "Because we're already home and you never got to ask me whatever stupid work question you had."

Glancing around at their surroundings then, Stephanie only a made a f ace before saying, "We'll find time to talk."

They always did. For all the amount of time they loved to spend their limited free minutes together goofing off, they also had a pretty good sense of purpose and responsibility. Work didn't top family, but it was pretty dang close to it.

It was actually what was on Steph's mind, the morning of the 24th, when she awoke far too early for a normal Sunday, resulting in far too little sleep for the special Sunday it was. There was a PPV that evening on the other coast. Flight at seven that morning, arrive a little past twelve, and then completely immerse herself in the never ending work of a wrestling company.

"Can't sleep either?"

It was around two in the morning and she'd been shifting around since one, it felt like while her husband lay there, counting sheep up to a hundred at a time before drifting off, only for her shifting again to inevitably awaken him.

"Did I wake you up?"

"I just said either, Steph." Paul had his turn to shift then, onto his side so that he could look at her. "We gotta get up in an hour or so."

"It's a big day."

"Most important."

"Besides, you know, Survivor Series."

"Mania."

"Summer Slam."

"Hell in a Cell."

"Literally any other Pay Per View."

"For the longest time, I thought people were saying _paper_ view, when that first became a thing."

"What?"

"What?"

Steph pushed up then, a bit, in order to move closer to him. They were both grinning tiredly but comfortably and when her head fell to rest on his pillow, Paul reached over to lay a hand n her cheek.

"Happy birthday, baby."

"It's three in the morning. If that. Is it even three yet?"

Not moving to look nor planing on allowing her to, he said, "So? It's still your birthday. And since you don't want anything said about it later-"

"At all, if I could help it."

'-I wanted to say it at least once. Else people would think, you know, I treat ya like shit or something."

"I mean, if that's their observation, who am I to argue?"

"Why," he asked instead, thumb running across her cheek then, "don't you want to celebrate your birthday, baby girl?"

"It's like I told you before," she said nuzzling up into his palm. "It's just not an important birthday. That's all. Especially in comparison to last year. Last year was super big. Forty. This one is just...not."

"But you liked thirty-nine."

"Because it was one before forty."

"You liked thirty-eight."

"Two before forty."

"This is sounding like you're hung up on being forty."

"Only because of the way you're asking your questions," she said. "You don't think that fifty is gonna be a super big deal to you."

"Not really."

"Paul."

"It's just a birthday."

"Why can't you accept that when I say that?"

"Because you're you." His tilted his head forwards to rest his forehead against hers. "And I know you."

"You always say that whenever I'm doing something that you didn't expect me to do," she said. "So maybe you don't really know me as much as you think?"

Paul blinked before suppressing a yawn. "You really make me think, Steph. So deep. You get me."

"Besides," she said as she stared into his eyes in the dark. "What's a birthday other than a year closer to your death?"

"You can't, Steph. You're a McMahon," he said. "You live forever. And, should something happen too one o you guys, you just respawn, right? Or reincarnate?"

Smiling once more, she asked, "What happens to you then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do reincarnate with me?"

"I ain't a McMahon, babe," he informed her, that time not suppressing the yawn nearly as well. "My kind? We die. Like normal people. Just because your family is demonic, Steph, doesn't mean that everyone else's is."

"It's called having good genes."

"You have good genes now?"

"Well, look at me."

"I'm glad your age has yet to affect your self-esteem, Stephie." Paul didn't even try to stop the yawn that time. Only let his hand fall from her face as it came up instead to cover his mouth. "Mmmm. I gotta sleep."

"We both do."

"The girls want me to wake them up with us in the morning," he said. "Before we go. To make you breakfast."

"It's too early for them," she said, still not moving back to her spot on the other side of the bed. He wasn't holding his breath for this happening anyways. "They should sleep. And I don't want a big breakfast."

"Burnt eggs and black toast that you won't eat isn't a big breakfast, Stephie." With his eyes shut, he told her, "It's not every day that their mother has a birthday. And you like for them to do dumb stuff for me on my birthday."

"They were gonna do something nice for me," she reminded. "After we get back from LA."

"But then it's not your birthday anymore."

"And it's different, when they do stuff for you."

"How?"

"Because you're you." It was her turn to grin. "And I know you."

"What do you know about me?"

"I know that you internalize things and don't always say what you're feeling, but you do in moments like that and it makes them special."

An eye got peaked back open before a deep grunt.

"You're sleep deprived."

"I actually am."

"Still can't sleep though."

"Me neither."

"Mmmm. Shoot myself in the morning for it."

"You work so hard."

"I really do."

Steph probably made a face at him for his lack of humility, but he wanted it out there and stated.

One of her arms had come up though, to wrap around his neck, and then her fingers were tickling the back of his neck in the same way they used to play with his hair and they were just fuck.

It was just a given.

You don't stay awake at three in the morning to _not_ fuck your wife.

You just don't.

Err, well, you try to and then have to stop because, you know, life.

"Maybe whoever it is will go back to bed," Paul whispered to Steph as the pair stilled beneath the covers, having just heard a bedroom door creak in the silence of the house. "Maybe-"

"Daddy, Andre has to go potty and I don't wanna take him and-"

"Just go open the doggy door," the man grumbled back to whichever daughter it was that was standing on the other side of his closed bedroom door. "And shove him out there."

"I don't want to."

"Murph-"

"I'm going back to sleep."

"You sure let them boss you around," Steph whispered to her husband as he tossed the covers back from over their heads to glare, still sleepily, at the closed door. "Babe."

"I'll be back." Her kiss got a cheek. "Take care of this for you."

"Since it's my birthday?"

Another kiss.

"Since it's your birthday."

And Steph tried to stay awake for Paul. Honestly, she did. But her eyelids were only getting heavier and he didn't seem to be coming back any time soon. The next time she could recall opening her eyes once more, it was because her phone alarm was going off and it was to an empty bed. She was so tired she almost rolled back over, but then the date suddenly hit her and she was bouncing right out of bed to rush into the shower. Her husband wasn't in the bathroom either, but she hardly gave it any concern at all, rushing right along with her morning routine.

She was busy brushing her teeth when he just strode into the bathroom, unconcerned with knocking. He was very good at just barging in. He was worse than their kids.

"This is gonna ruin your orange juice."

"I don't like it anyways. Too sweet."

"You're gonna like it today." He came to give her head a kiss, nearly knocking the towel her hair was done up in off in the process. "The girls got your breakfast ready. They're down there with the nanny."

"She's already here?"

"A lot goes on when you sleep the latest in the house, Steph."

Well, in that moment. Because their daughters went back to bed not soon after that and they left the house with only Andre, their dog, awake to be upset by their departure.

PPV day was always a jittery one for Steph. And other than the occasional mention from someone around of her of her birthday, she was far more distracted by all that was going on. She didn't even truly feeling it, that special day feeling, until the show was over, the worries over it were dead, and she was laying in a hotel room bed, flicking through her phone.

"Here, Stephie."

"You could buy me wine, but not a wine glass?"

"This is a fucking expensive bottle I went out, before the show, to get you." When Paul only got a look, he grinned widely, standing by her side of the bed, hand still out stretched with a Solo cup grasped in it. "That I had an assistant go out and get you."

"That's what I thought."

"I wasn't specific enough." When she took the cup, he shrugged a bit, the bottle of wine still dangling from his other hand. "It's what they brought back. I also had them buy you some chocolate-"

"You've had candy on you this whole time and are just now mentioning it?"

"Well, I mean, you're probably at your max of sugar for the day, right? All that orange juice this morning-"

"What are you doing with my wine?" she asked when he'd moved to set it on the other side of the room, on the desk. "Who's getting up to refill my cup? Huh? Are you? No. So bring it over here."

"Sheesh, bossy much? Turn it off, Steph. The show's over."

He did do as she asked however, setting the wine on the nightstand on his half of the bed as well as bringing over a plastic gas station bag.

"I just told them to get you some candy bars," he explained while undressing completely, right there beside the bed.

Steph was far too concerned with her new loot to be enticed any.

"Way better than cake."

"Yeah, well, just know I won't kiss you," he remarked as he tumbled into the no doubt filthy hotel bed sheets that he had definite plans to add his own filth to. Like the good ol' days. When fucking Steph was a privilege that was either waiting to be exposed or revoked. "Smelling like chocolate _and_ wine."

"And nougat and peanut butter."

"Synthetic nougat and peanut butter."

"Not a thing." Glancing across the bed at him with a grin then, she said, "And besides, it's not like kissing is a requirement."

"I like side of you. Just kinda buzzed," Paul remarked as he shifted closer. "But I like blackout drunk, I can do what I want to you much better."

"It's literally too late in the decade for you to have said that."

"It was a reference."

"To?'

"Life in general."

Steph was holding out her cup then anyways and, with a roll of his eyes, he had to reach back over to the nightstand to grab the bottle.

"Will you drink with me?"

"No."

"Paul-"

"I'm not some degenerate who drinks wine from a fucking Solo cup."

"Mmmm." She only let him fill it up a quarter of the way that time as it had already gone to her head a bit, her quick downing of the first round, and she didn't want to get sick before the fun began. "but I like you best as a degenerate."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

"I like new Hunter." He sat the bottle back down taking the candy bar she held out to him, as to open it for her. Whereas she'd gotten caught up in trying to pry apart the very stuck together wrapping, he just used it teeth, spitting what he ripped off as his complaining wife before saying, "Mature Hunter."

"Mature as in old?"

"Okay, I'm not the woman that's over forty, so-"

"You're not gonna get me drunk enough to get away with that more than once, you know."

"Mature Hunter doesn't do that sorta stuff. Get women drunk for a lay." He patted at his chest. "He just flaunts his money in their faces and takes them to bed. Like a real gentleman."

"You sure have spent a lot of time building Hunter's character up for him to not even be around that often anymore." Steph took a long sip from her cup, one that made Paul nauseous just from watching. Around the cup, she said, "An oddly specific part of his life that literally has never been developed on the show."

"What are you talking about? Hunter was born a dog and will die a dog."

"Uh, I thought the implication was that he was pretty faithful."

"What rich, successful man is that? Huh?" He reached over to knock his knuckles against her head. "Think again, princess. On your birthday, you probably went out and partied with your friends after, once more, skipping work for the billionth time-"

"I'm injured."

"Yeah, okay."

"it's true."

"Okay, well, while you're drinking away your chronic back pain from going through a table, on your birthday," he went on, "Hunter was out with other women and you know it. He oozes of it. But I mean, look at him."

"Look at him."

"And look at their company."

"Look at it."

"What married man wants to sit around, in a stupid hotel room, after working hard all day, and just hang out with his over forty wife?'

"What man," she yawned in agreement as he gently took her cup from her hand, knowing she'd had far too much in such a short amount of time, allowing her to fall into the mattress as well, resting partially against him, candy bar in one hand, the baggie of others lying on his abs. "My man."

"Well," he sighed, taking a sniff of the wine only to make a face down at her (though it was wasted as she was far more into her chocolate), "Paul's always been a bit more slow on the uptake than Hunter. Much happier."

"The stupider ones seem to be."

"You know I'd rather be nowhere else, right?" he asked in a more serious tone then, trading the candy bar and wine with one another as she wanted to finish the cup. "Other than, like, home. But with you, is what I meant."

"I know what you meant." It was smaller sips she was taking then, having to sit up a bit to do so. "We always know what the other means."

"I know," he agreed, of course. "i just like to say it sometimes. Without joking. You're the most important person that ever came into my life, you know."

"Because Hunter needed character development? Because I'm Vince's daughter? Because you wanted someone hot to have your children?"

"Because I love you. And I care about you. And I never felt that returned on the exact same frequency with another woman before and never have again." They traded again, but this time Paul put the cup behind him, on the nightstand. "And who said you were hot?'

"Uh, try the man that stripped down without prova...prov… Proaca-ation."

"Ooh, that's a big word for a alky like you, ain't it?" He beamed down at her. "I sleep better when my junks free to move about, Steph. Sue me. You know this. You live this."

"Gross."

"Hey, I said Hunter was mature now. Said nothin' about me."

"We need to pull down the covers." Stephanie had only ate one candy bar, but was already tapped out it seemed, as though his heart beat a bit faster when she reached down, she only moved to grab the baggie of candy and toss it off the bed. "Paul."

"Why?" He was still as she cuddled against him, curled up a bit, with her head lower on his chest than usual. "You seem very comfortable."

"Is it midnight yet? On the east coast? Or here? Or anywhere?"

"It's always midnight somewhere, from what I hear, Stephie."

"Then it's not my birthday anymore."

"Nope."

"Mmmm." She was rubbing at his stomach gently, but it was lazily and he knew soon enough, he'd lose her, his own heavy eyes letting him know he wasn't far behind. "We missed the, you know, sex window or whatever."

"Rats." He clicked his tongue as the hand that wasn't rubbing at her arm moved to turn off the lamp by his bed, being careful not to knock over the bottle of wine. "Guess we'll have to wait til… What is it? Anniversary?"

"That's always the best sex."

"Is it?"

"Always."

"You say that every time I fuck you though."

"Do not."

"It's implied." In the dark now, he settled into bed a bit more comfortably. "Bet Hunter gets told it."

"By his hookers?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said that you flash money and-"

"Okay, first off, no, they are not- No. Don't say that. Do you even know the story?"

"There's a whole story 'bout it?"

"Is there? Is there? There's a whole never-ending one about it!"

"Only in your head," she slurred, probably more from lack of sleep than anything else, Paul felt.

"And number two, it's not me, it's Hunter, so-"

"Felt like hookers was the impli...imp… Paul."

"Hmmm?"

"In then morning, right?" She lifted her head to stare up at him. "Paul?"

Grinning through the exhaustion, he nodded a bit as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"We'll take a shower," he whispered softly, "or a bath or whatever you want, and have some of that stupid, washing each other off awkwardly stuff, and then I'll take good care of ya. Like always."

"Like always," she muttered back as his chest got a kiss before she was rolling away from him, off to her side of the bed. "In the morning."

"Baby?"

"Mmmm?"

"Happy birthday." He kicked the covers down on his side before doing the same with her, Steph griping a bit at this, before pulling them back up around the two of them. "You know how much I love you. And hey, yeah, I couldda been out, doing something else, but so could have you. But you're not. You're here, with me, and that means the world to me."

"Paul?"

"What?"

"Can I have more wine?"

"No."

"Paul-"

"You can get up and get it. I'm comfortable."

"I'mma drink so much of it tomorrow and be drunk all through RAW and blame you."

"After I get my morning, shower blow."

"My birthday."

"Yesterday. Now who's birthday is the next one coming up? That's right; mine. Be sure to pucker up. Steph? Did you hear me?"

When he got no response, he let out a long breath and hunkered down under the covers as well. Feeling Steph's foot brush his made him grin and push it back, getting a slight giggle out of the woman.

That night, neither could have asked for a better sleep.


End file.
